Mills & Boon is proud to present a fabulous collection of fantastic novels by bestselling, much loved author
ANNE MATHER
Anne has a stellar record of achievement within the
publishing industry, having written over one hundred and sixty books, with worldwide sales of more than forty-eight MILLION copies in multiple languages.
This amazing collection of classic stories offers a chance
for readers to recapture the pleasure Anne’s powerful, passionate writing has given.
We are sure you will love them all!
I’ve always wanted to write—which is not to say I’ve always wanted to be a professional writer. On the contrary, for years I only wrote for my own pleasure and it wasn’t until my husband suggested sending one of my stories to a publisher that we put several publishers’ names into a hat and pulled one out. The rest, as they say, is history. And now, one hundred and sixty-two books later, I’m literally—excuse the pun—staggered by what’s happened.
I had written all through my infant and junior years and on into my teens, the stories changing from children’s adventures to torrid gypsy passions. My mother used to gather these manuscripts up from time to time, when my bedroom became too untidy, and dispose of them! In those days, I used not to finish any of the stories and Caroline, my first published novel, was the first I’d ever completed. I was newly married then and my daughter was just a baby, and it was quite a job juggling my household chores and scribbling away in exercise books every chance I got. Not very professional, as you can imagine, but that’s the way it was.
These days, I have a bit more time to devote to my work, but that first love of writing has never changed. I can’t imagine not having a current book on the typewriter—yes, it’s my husband who transcribes everything on to the computer. He’s my partner in both life and work and I depend on his good sense more than I care to admit.
We have two grown-up children, a son and a daughter, and two almost grown-up grandchildren, Abi and Ben. My e-mail address is [email protected] and I’d be happy to hear from any of my wonderful readers.
Dangerous Rhapsody
Anne Mather
Table of Contents
THE offices of Thorne Chemicals stood in a mews off Cromwell Road. A tall, imposing building of concrete and glass, its many floors reached greedily towards the sky, as though proclaiming by its height its undoubted individuality and prosperity. A uniformed commissionaire patrolled the flight of shallow steps which led up to the wide expanse of glass panelling in which were set the swing doors giving on to the entrance hall. Emma felt sure this worthy individual considered her a more likely candidate for the staff entrance just around the corner, but she gathered together all her small store of confidence, and mounting the steps she pushed open the swing doors and entered the building.
She was immediately conscious of the pile carpet into which her shoes sank luxuriously, and looked across its jade green width to a low, dark reception desk, behind which a striking blonde was seated. Her skilfully darkened eyebrows rose at Emma's entrance, and she seemed surprised at the intrusion. Emma swallowed hard, and crossed the carpet to the desk.
‘I have an appointment with Mr. Thorne, for eleven o'clock,’ she said.
The blonde consulted her appointments book. ‘You are Miss Harding?'
Emma nodded. Now that she was actually here, her knees were starting to feel weak again, and she hoped they would not give out on her. Oh, lord, she thought wildly, why had Johnny had to get her into this awful situation?
The blonde was using the inter-communication telephone on the desk, and Emma, coming back to awareness of the present, heard her speaking to Damon Thorne's secretary. There was the usual inter-change of names and appointment times and then the blonde replaced her receiver and turned to Emma.
‘Mr. Thorne's secretary is sending someone down to take you up to his suite,’ she said, in cool, aloof tones. ‘Sit down for a moment, won't you?'
She waved a careless hand in the direction of several comfortable chairs, placed at intervals, and then returned to her perusal of a sheaf of papers which had presumably been her occupation before Emma's arrival.
Emma seated herself nervously on the edge of one of the red and white armchairs, and drew off her gloves meticulously, wondering however she was going to find words to conduct this interview. It was all very well for Johnny, staying blithely out of the way and leaving all the dirty work to her, but even he could have had no idea of the desperate torment of the situation into which he had thrust her, or surely he would have thought before asking her help in so doing shifting the burden of his guilt on to her shoulders.
In his simple reasoning, the